Featherbed
by LadyMy7
Summary: In which the Hound sings a song... (Gendry/Arya)


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything.

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the song 'My Featherbed,' which is shown in the ASOIAF books when Tom sings it while walking in on Gendry and Arya wrestling and fighting. It's a song that I feel depicts Gendry's and Arya's relationship so well.

Plus, I love to play on the Hound's personality.

* * *

"_My featherbed is deep and soft,_

_and there I'll lay you down,_

_I'll dress you all in yellow silk_

_and on your head a crown._

_For you shall be my lady love,_

_and I shall be your lord._

_I'll always keep you warm and safe,_

_and guard you with my sword._

* * *

"Bloody Hells…"

At the sound of his voice, small, grey eyes looked up from where she couched, her small face and clothes covered in mud and blood. She broke into a bright smile as the large, intimidating man approached her.

She was one of the few people who does not cower in fear when he was near. No, even as a youngin for she had always tried to place those silly flowers in his hair or test his patience, never afraid of the Hound.

The young girl of now seven. She was a little thing still, small for her age with innocent child-like qualities; long, black hair and bright blue eyes like her Lord Father. However, despite her young age and small size, her personality took after her mother; and because of that she was as rumbustious and wild and carefree as any wolf of the north.

And because of that very reason, the Hound always had been the one who was ordered to oversee her since she was old enough to walk. For she kept causing troubles all the septas and kept running away from all of the other guards.

"Ser Clegane!" the little girl squealed excited before clutching her bloodied hands around a dead rabbit as her feet, waving it around her excitedly. "Look what I caught today!"

The large hound closed the space between him and the girl within a few large steps, scanning the situation with narrow eyes with an annoyed huff.

Clothes – torn.

Hair – muddied.

Hands – bloodied.

Knees – scrapped.

Smile – bright.

Just another average afternoon.

"I take my eyes off of you for a bloody second, and here you are." His voice, although low and aggravated, was laced with an underlying tone of amusement. His eyes roamed over her small frame quickly noting how to prim and proper princess that he left the castle with was now a dirtied mess, hair amess, dress ripped and muddied and arms and legs marred.

"Your Lord Father is not going to be please. You were supposed to be at your lessons."

The little girl lowered the dead rabbit's carcass, rolling her eyes in an indignant manner that looked all-too familiar. "Those lessons are far too boring, and father is a whingler."

The Hound broke into a small smirk, "Aye, but that is no way for a young lady to speak, little wolf."

"I am not a lady!"

He raised his one good brow. "Eh, then what are you then?"

A smirk, "Nothing yet. But one day, I will be a hunter, a knight, a warrior, a fighter… I will be something bigger and better than a useless lady. I am a wolf and a stag, I am NOT a lady."

A flash of déjà vu hit him and he look his head, reaching over to take the rabbit from the girl's blood-caked fingers. "No, little one, that you are not. You have too much wolf blood in you to be a lady. Just like that crazy mother of yours. Come, your Lord Father is looking for you for dinner. Your brothers are already waiting."

At his comment, the girl broke out in a goofy grin before motioning the Hound with her arms. He seemed to understand her silent request and turned around before crouching down.

Immediately, the little girl scrambled to her feet and jumped on the Hound's back.

Their walk was in comfortable silence as Sandor made the hike through the fields back to the castle.

But of course, the little girl can only stay quiet for so long.

"Ser Clegane, sing me a song."

"No."

She huffed, blowing her long bangs from her small face. "And why not?"

"Does it look like I sing, child? Have your Lord Father sing to you."

He felt her stiffen against his back and her shoulders slugged stubbornly. "Father only sings of ladies and lords and love and such. And not even that well. If I have to hear that stupid 'Featherbed' song one more time, I'll run away and take the Black."

"Featherbed?"

"The one of a lord and his lady love, who didn't want a crown but instead wanted a dress of leaves and grass."

"Sounds bloody awful."

"Sounds bloody annoying, I just might stick him with the pointy end."

At that, the Hound let out a low chuckle. "Who taught you to speak like this?"

"You."

He let out an amused puff. "Don't tell your Lord Father."

Her grip around his neck tightened. "Please, please, please?" Her voice with high and squeaky. They were approaching the castle walls and she was dreading facing her Lord Father in her current state. "PLEASE, Ser Clegane?"

His left eye twitched. "Lyanna-"

"Do you dare deny your Lady's request?" She reached over and poked him in the cheek. "Or do I have to stick YOU with the pointy end?"

_Oh, how quickly they learn._

He could feel her grinning in triumph before his back and he let out an irritated groan.

_Too much like her mother._

Damn. This girl was going to be the death of him.

He shook his head and let out an exasperated, defeated sigh.

"_The black-haired lord was a whingling boy, _

_With no backbone to see. _

_A lowly smith who couldn't swing a sword, _

_At least a hammer he could swing."_

She giggled childishly behind him, immediately knowing what the song was about. His voice, although low and frustrated, hinted amusement. Passing by the guard at the gates, Lyanna spared him but a nod, her full attention on the Hound. "Keep going."

"_The pathetic man had a she-wolf love, _

_But to him, she would not yield._

_For the Hound had taught her how to fight,_

_To stab every man in the fields."_

They strode through the castle's wall, ignoring the many shocked looks of servants around them. Her laugher spurred him to continue.

"_And how we laughed and how we mocked, _

_At the little black-haired lad._

_We watched as she beat his ass to the ground, _

'_Not lady-like,' my ass."_

He walked through the long halls of the Storm End's castle towards the dining room, where he knew was where her parents were waiting for them. Suddenly, his singing got slightly louder, knowing well that they would be able to hear him from the other side.

_At least he did one good thing:_

_Gave the Hound a lady to guard and protect._

_Who's every bit like her mother, _

_Thank Heavens just for that."_

"Again!"

"No."

* * *

Behind the doors, in the dining room, Gendry groans in frustration before smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand, while his Lady Wife who was sitting next to him burst out in a fit of laughter.

"I prefer that version," Arya laughed, eyes sparkling.

Gendry pout. "Seven hells."

The doors to the dining halls opened, and in ran Lyanna in all of her dirtied mess and glory. Gendry's mouth fell open slightly and the state of his daughter was in as she run up to the center of the table and curtsied politely, almost mockingly. Her two older brothers who sat at the table snickered behind their hands.

"Lord Father. Mother."

The Hound smirked from the doorway. Ayra broke out in another fit to laughter as Gendry buried his face in his hands.

"Seven hells."

In the words of the great Eddark Stark: war is easier than daughters.

* * *

_'_

_And how she smiled and how she laughed,_

_the maiden of the tree._

_She spun away and said to him,_

_no featherbed for me._

_I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,_

_and bind my hair with grass,_

_But you can be my forest love,_

_and me your forest lass."_

* * *

**Owari**.


End file.
